Duskfire Glacier one more test

the man.
his voice was hoarse, thick with the weight of exhaustion and the looming dawn. faust had not slept, had barely breathed since the night unraveled into something far beyond his control. his shoulders burned with the weight of it, but he did not buckle.
the winsook brute— the words were spoken between grit teeth, his mind racing even as he tried to piece the game together, tried to predict the next move. everything rested on strategy now. strength, loyalty, numbers. he needed more than what the glacier alone could offer.
who was he? his gaze lifted to her, sharp and seeking. can he fight?
if they had no allies, they would make them. if they had no army, they would build one. this war would not be fought blindly—he would see them through it, or he would die trying.